Not Quite A Storybook Romance
by absolute power
Summary: Gakuen-verse, written for xdiamondwings on LJ. Alfred likes to watch the student council president in the library, and people start to take notice.


Okay, so this was written for xdiamondwings on LJ because she requested it ages and ages ago. I was only able to finish it now. It took me months and it's still quite sucky. T_T I'm sorry.

Anyway, cheese and fluff lie ahead, beware! Please leave a review! Flames are very hurtful but it would be ever so kind of you to give me some constructive criticism as I think I made the characters quite OOC despite my efforts. Some help, please? :)

* * *

It was a wonder, Alfred thought to himself, that between juggling schoolwork, clubs, and sports training, he still had time for _this._

He lifted his eyes from the bookshelf he was scanning and turned his gaze to the round table in the corner- Arthur's table, he had dubbed it, since no one else ever seemed to sit there- where the student council president was busy poring over notes spread uncharacteristically haphazard over the surface of the wood. He chanced a glance at the papers, taking note of the symbols and numbers written in neat, elegant script. Maths, it looked like. And it seemed Arthur was having a problem with it, if the way he was violently stabbing his pen into his graphing paper was any indication.

Alfred watched a few moments more as Arthur wrestled with his homework before giving up completely, letting his head fall with an audible thud on the table. Pieces of paper fluttered down to rest on the floor, but Arthur made no attempt to put them in order, preferring instead to heave a sigh of frustration into his notebook.

Alfred felt a twinge of pity. Being rather good at science and maths, if he said so himself, he felt it was his duty to help his fellow students in raising their grades. And what better way to help than to offer a free one-on-one lesson? (And no, that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it was _Arthur_ who needed help at the moment.)

Sliding smoothly into the chair across from him, Alfred grinned brightly at Arthur, inwardly patting himself on the back for having such a brilliant idea. "Hey, Arthur, need a little help with that?"

Arthur, after his initial surprise, shot him a suspicious look. "What are you doing here, Jones?"

Alfred struck a dramatic pose. "What, is there anything wrong with wanting to help out a friend in need?"

Arthur flushed a light pink, then narrowed his eyes. "I don't need your help. Go find someone else to bother- I don't have time for your nonsense. Besides, we're not really friends. Acquaintances, perhaps."

Ouch, Alfred thought to himself, wincing. That _burned_. He stood up unhappily, but flashed a smile at Arthur anyway. It wouldn't do to have him know how much that hurt. "Okay then, I'll leave you to it!"

He moved quickly behind a bookshelf, leaning against it and burying his head in his hands, ignoring the indignant squawks of the student he had just blocked from getting a book.

Acquaintances. Alfred never realised how much he hated that word until now.

* * *

Alfred hadn't approached Arthur in the library again after that incident. He had sat beside him in class, cornered him at lunch, pestered him with complaints and suggestions about the student council projects, even went out of his way to bump into him in the corridors- anything to say they were a bit more than acquaintances. But library time was for watching, and watching only.

Alfred groaned. He was beginning to sound like some sort of stalker. But Arthur was looking extra nice today, he had to admit.

It looked like all the stress of two weeks ago had dissipated, leaving Arthur relaxed and contented. He had brought out a dog-eared copy of Wuthering Heights- his favourite book, Alfred recalled from a reliable source- and was reading it in the light of the afternoon sun that streamed in from the window. Alfred found himself entranced by the way Arthur's expressions would change as he read the book, always like he was going through the story for the very first time. Long, slender fingers reached up to tug at a lock of ash blond, unevenly cut hair, and Arthur bit his lip as he seemed to come to a particularly intense part of the story. He murmured the words from the book, smiling.

Alfred knew he was being a sappy romantic, but he couldn't help but smile as well. It was rare for anyone to see the student council president not frowning, planning events, or stressing out. To see him relaxed and happy made Alfred feel a little lighter inside, even if he would never admit it to anyone.

"Arthur, _mon petit lapin!_"

Alfred's face fell. It was Francis Bonnefoy- Arthur's oldest rival, the student council vice-president, and the school's resident self-proclaimed god of love. He watched as Francis approached a now-scowling Arthur, curling his hand into a fist.

"Must you always insist on speaking French?"

"Why of course, _mon cher!_ I must be proud of my culture!" Francis winked at him. "Of course, I can understand your reservations about showing yours..."

Arthur spluttered out a retort, and Alfred ground his teeth.

"Ah, but I have something very important to tell you!" With a smirk, Francis swooped down to whisper in Arthur's ear. The shorter boy blushed with embarrassment, turning pinker with every word, looking frantically around for any witnesses of this blatant display of affection. His eyes locked onto Alfred's, and he shoved Francis away.

"Go away, you prick!"

"Why do you insist on breaking my heart with your stubbornness, Arthur?"

Arthur's face flamed. Alfred stood up and left the library.

* * *

After a few more weeks Arthur and Alfred had managed to develop a solid friendship, even if it didn't seem that way to people at first glance. The president refused to hold back his biting comments about Alfred's intelligence (despite him being on the honours list) and in turn, Alfred was merciless in his teasing about the other being so uptight and old-fashioned. However, the other students rarely saw them without the other- the only times they were ever caught alone were when Alfred had sports practice or when Arthur was in the library.

Despite this new closeness, Alfred continued to secretly watch Arthur in the library every day, (he refused to admit that his pride was still smarting from the first attempt at "library contact" months ago) even if occasionally Francis would come by to bother the president. The British boy looked more and more frazzled after his every visit, and as much as it was nice to see Arthur blushing and biting his lip, Alfred couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought that Francis, of all people, would make Arthur look that way.

Francis was even more touchy-feely than usual around Arthur, bending down slowly to whisper in his ear, breath tickling the other boy's face. He would grab Arthur's cheeks when he angrily turned to protest, cutting off any complaints by saying something in a voice too low for Alfred to hear. And Arthur would flush _brilliantly_, and be so flustered that he wouldn't even think to push Francis away. And Francis' eyes would stray to wherever Alfred was, no matter how well he was hiding, and his lips would curve into what was undeniably a smirk of triumph.

And it happened every single day.

Alfred was fuming. It was one thing for Francis and Arthur to be close, but to be so obviously challenging him-! It made him want to scream, or better yet, punch the living daylights out of the French boy.

"Do it," Francis' voice drifted from the other end of the library, and Alfred strained to hear the rest of the conversation. "I dare you."

"F-Francis, no, this is too embarrassing!"

"No, _mon lapin_, it needs to be done. I think it will relieve some of your tension as well, _oui_?" Francis' lips formed into a pout, and Arthur seemed to relent.

Alfred curled his hands into fists, then grabbed a book, trying to drown out the sounds of their altogether too-affectionate conversation. The sound of quiet footsteps padding toward him reached his ears, but he took no notice. It was probably just the old librarian, passing by to rearrange the mess on the shelves-

Someone cleared their throat. "Ah, good afternoon, Alfred."

Alfred froze, heart leaping to his throat. "A-Artie! Hi! What are you doing here? I didn't see you there, ahaha..." He trailed off, scratching the back of his head as he tried to cover his embarrassment.

Arthur's lips twitched, as if he were about to smile, but he straightened his expression and began in a serious tone. "You've been acting quite suspiciously these past few weeks-"

"Suspicious?"Alfred squeaked. "I'm not suspicious! I'm reading, see?"

This time Arthur couldn't quite keep the smirk from off his face. "Oh?" he asked delicately, plucking the book from Alfred's hands and putting it to the side. "So it's a habit of yours to read books upside down?"

Alfred gaped at him, not knowing how to respond and cursing the flush crawling up his neck to his ears. There was, he noted with some relief and a tiny spark of hope, a matching blush on Arthur's cheeks, somewhat offsetting his mocking expression.

"So..." Arthur bit his lip, now seeming to struggle with what he was about to say. It was a welcome change from the previous cockiness (although Alfred had to admit that both looks suited the other boy very well indeed). "Francis was telling me something very interesting."

"Heh, that frog? You always tell me never to listen to-"

"It concerns you. And, er, me as well," Arthur added, wringing his hands a little nervously.

_Oh God_, Alfred thought, his mind in a panic. _This is it. He's found me out. He's going to stop being my friend and call me a creep and get together with Francis and that French bastard will-!_

"...and I-I don't think we need to do this anymore." Arthur said firmly, and Alfred realised with horror that he hadn't heard anything of what the other had been saying.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked, still dreading the answer. He wiped his hands on his trousers, hoping Arthur wouldn't notice.

"I mean," Arthur sighed, screwing his eyes shut and turning a brilliant red. The face was rather becoming on him, Alfred couldn't help but notice. "What I mean to say is that we shouldn't have to dance around each other anymore."

Alfred had already opened his mouth, prepared to give an apology and then slink away to lick his wounds, but he found he couldn't speak at all as the other boy's words hit him fully.

The pause seemed to make him lose all confidence. "That is, er, if you want to. O-or Francis could have been entirely wrong about this whole thing and I-I, er..." Arthur was now furiously wringing his hands and he hung his head to the side, unwilling to look at Alfred's face. "Shit."

_I think he likes me._ Alfred felt like he was going to burst. And he was even asking to be more than friends! There was a warm, tight feeling in his chest as if a huge pressure was just about to be lifted, and he found he couldn't quite control his arms and legs anymore. He stood up suddenly, flinging the chair down, and wrapped Arthur up in a tight hug, spinning them around the library much to the agitation of the other students.

"Idiot! Let me go!" Arthur's protests were muffled in his blazer, but Alfred pulled away, holding the other at arm's length as he grinned broadly.

"Oh Artie! I didn't think you'd ever feel the same way!" he crowed. An exaggerated gagging sound was heard from somewhere in the room, but he paid it no attention. "This is so awesome! You like me? You really do?"

"Shut up, you git, we're in the library for heaven's sake!" He averted his gaze, a scowl on his face. "A-and I'm afraid I like you more is healthy. You're a right dolt for having to ask."

They were attracting an audience within the library- Francis included, Alfred noted with a grin- but still, he held out a hand to Arthur and smiled at him. "So, are you free later tonight?"

"No, not tonight." Arthur hesitantly put his hand in Alfred's, a small smile slowly spreading on his face. "But... Saturday is fine."

Alfred's resounding whoop of triumph was heard the next room over.


End file.
